


A Breath of Fresh Air

by KatieComma, Nevcolleil



Series: After the Ghost [2]
Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Family, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-29 09:06:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15726285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatieComma/pseuds/KatieComma, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nevcolleil/pseuds/Nevcolleil
Summary: Jack was killed by The Ghost in New York. He left Riley his Shelby Cobra, and she can barely look at the thing without bringing up memories of Jack. But it's all she has left of him.





	A Breath of Fresh Air

**Author's Note:**

> I've listed Nevcolleil as a co-creator on this because, though the prose is mine, the backbone of this piece came from Nev's ideas.
> 
> I've also tagged this as a MacDalton fic even though there isn't really any MacDalton subject matter in here... only because it carries on from the last one which was blatantly MacDalton... But this can TOTALLY be read on its own as NOT MacDalton.

The car waited in the parking lot like a lost puppy, or a tiger ready to pounce, depending on your point of view.

Riley looked at it and saw both. The lost puppy was the comfort Jack had left behind, waiting for her to sink into the soft leather of the driver’s seat. The tiger was the pain of revving the engine without Jack there.

The keys were heavy in her hand, the cold metal of the horseshoe keychain cutting into her palm as she squeezed it tight.

Four days in a row she’d stood and looked at the car; The Shelby Cobra that Jack had left for her. And for four days she’d inched closer and closer, still afraid to actually get inside.

The first day, she’d been 4 parking stalls away from it, the sleek lines of the racing stripes inviting. Each day closer and closer until she stood one stall away. 

Two yellow lines of paint separated her from slipping the key into the lock of the driver’s side door.

Once she crossed those lines she reluctantly she sat down and the bucket seat embraced her, squeaking against her leather jacket.

The inside was spotless. Not a speck of dust to be seen. If there was one thing Jack loved - had loved - it’d been his cars. But Riley knew that was a lie, he’d loved so much more than that. He’d loved her like a daughter.

Once that thought had snuck into her brain she couldn’t even bear to touch the steering wheel, just jumped out and locked the door, clenching her jaw against threatening tears as she walked back across the parking lot.

Two more visits before she started it. 

The car roared to life, anxious to be on the road again and feel the asphalt spin away under its tires as it soared along the coast.

Hard leather steering wheel under her fingers, Riley gripped it tight until her knuckles were white. The car vibrated all around her, awaiting instruction. 

She closed her eyes and willed Jack to speak to her. Hoped to hear him urge her forward, tell her to pull out of the parking lot and never come back. Tell her where to go or what to do now that he was gone, because she’d lost all direction; South and east were the same as up and down, the world a dizzy spinning mess.

But she didn’t touch the gas pedal and the tires didn’t move. She pulled the key out and left.

As the tightness in her chest eased a little more each day she started planning a road trip, with Mac’s help. Mac who knew Jack even better than she had.

Over the years Jack had told Riley about places he’d wanted to take her. There hadn’t been many, but they were spread far and wide.

“The Grand Canyon,” he’d said, “wasn’t just a big ole hole in the ground and pictures didn’t do it justice. It was like takin’ a breath of fresh air and makin’ it a place.”

The Dalton family ranch in Texas. “Never a better place to feel at home Ri, the sky’s bigger’n the moon out there.”

Niagara Falls. No reason in particular, he’d just liked it there and wanted her to see it.

Deadwood South Dakota. “You know the saloon where Wild Bill was shot is still open? Always wanted to see that.”

Mac added a few things to list. Places Jack had always wanted to go, but never had the chance.

The list seemed like a dream that would never happen. More than anything she was afraid of it. Afraid to stand in front of the Grand Canyon without Jack while the cold desert air blew silent around her.

Mac made her pick a date. Not one to judge in his current state of completely falling apart, he’d said that she needed to start moving on. What better way than to physically move on?

The morning of her departure she woke up early. Goodbyes were too hard, so she was skipping out on all of that.

Settling into the driver’s seat was getting easier and easier with each repeat. Ready to toss her backpack onto the passenger seat she noticed it was already occupied. By a stack of t-shirts. Jack’s shirts.

Riley reached out a hand tentatively, like the shirts weren’t real and were going to disappear. Instead her fingers found soft, worn fabric. They had been folded perfectly, lovingly. She picked up the top one, letting it unfold until she could see the Metallica logo across the chest. The smaller details came next: the fraying collar, the small hole near the bottom hem. These shirts were all so worn and damaged, and still he’d kept them. Just like he’d kept her.

She pulled the shirt in and hugged it close, pressing her face into it. She’d hoped it would smell like Jack, but it didn’t. It smelled clean like it had just been washed. Wonder at who had left those shirts washed and carefully folded didn’t last long. She was just glad to have them.

Riley pulled that top shirt on over her tank top. It was way too big, but that didn’t matter. She smiled for the first time in as long as she could remember, ran a finger along the tattered collar, and started the car.

Day after day passed by in a blur outside the windows. 

The tape deck worked. She found a box of cassettes under the passenger seat; Mixes Jack had made over the years, labeled in his scribbled writing: Badass Mix, July ’92 Mix, Summer Lovin’, Salt-N-Pepa, Delta Blues, Cowboys… They went on and on. Riley listened to every last one.

The car was her hotel. Curled up across the console she quickly learned the most comfortable way to turn to avoid aches and pains in the morning. 

It was her hotel, but never her restaurant. True to Jack’s wishes in life she never ate in the Cobra, instead she stopped at greasy spoons and roadside diners, finishing every bite before she got back inside.

She saved the Grand Canyon for last. One last stop on the way back home. The place Jack had talked about most often.

A few hours from that last red circle on her road trip map she stopped for gas and lost her sunglasses.

Riley dug around the car, hoping that Jack had left a pair somewhere. Finally she popped the glove box and found some mirrored aviators staring back at her. Hiding behind them was a worn leather cuff.

The sunglasses fit perfect. But the leather cuff was a bit big. The moment she put it around her wrist she was done for. Curled up in the driver’s seat, her knees resting against the steering wheel she called Mac.

Mac opened the passenger door two hours later and crawled in. He slipped Jack’s dog tags out from under his shirt and hung them on the rearview before he asked where they were headed to next, as though nothing was the matter.

They stood in front of the Grand Canyon side by side. It should have just been a big hole in the ground, but Jack had been right, there was something about it.

“It really is like a big breath of fresh air,” Mac said, grief filling his words.

Riley didn’t have the courage to say anything. Instead she took a big breath and let the air fill her lungs down to the places she hadn’t felt air since Jack died. When she breathed out it felt like the earth sighed with her and a breeze carried her grief out over that “big ole hole in the ground.”

Mac took her hand, brushing his fingers against the leather cuff she wore and they walked back to the car together, ready to rev the engine and let Jack’s car carry them back to the real world. Back to life.


End file.
